by Neal Jones
"Which I then relayed to Admiral Hazen. I'm sure that OFCIR already has your full report, but you're right. They'll want you to go over it again." He pronounced the acronym as a proper noun instead of saying each initial. "However, I am making one slight alteration to Drumhold's orders. He said nothing about Doctor Rosenberg accompanying you to Galadreon."
"Actually, sir, with your permission I'd rather send someone else. I've hardly spent any time with Jennifer and Emalie since they got back from Earth, and Ilkara's going to be on Galadreon for several weeks, at least."
"Yes, of course. I'd forgotten about that. Whom do you recommend take your place?"
"Doctor McMullen. Since he's my lab chief, he was as involved in this whole process as I was."
"Good. I think that's it for now."
The trio left the wardroom together, but split up in the corridor. Ilkara waited until Gabriel was out of earshot before turning to Rosenberg.
"Doctor – Ben - I need to ask you something personal."
"Go ahead."
"I appreciate the commodore sticking up for me when Admiral Drumhold didn't use the right pronoun, but this is something I've noticed in the last few days. There are no other species on Exxar-One that are gender neutral, and only two that are hermaphroditic. Yesterday, as I was being introduced by Commander Garrett to his officers, he became flustered when he accidentally used a female pronoun to refer to me. I assured him that I hadn't taken offense, and I used the opportunity to let his staff know what the correct usage is. However, most of them still seemed uncomfortable with relating to me as a gender neutral person. As long as the conversation remained on an engineering related subject, I had no problems conversing with them. And, to be fair, not all of them seemed as put off by my unusual physiology as some, but I'd like to..." S/he frowned. "I would like to alter my physical appearance to appear more feminine. Growing some hair, for example, and" - she glanced around to make sure there were no others in earshot - "breast implants." Ilkara blushed and quickly added, "I realize how unusual this kind of request must seem, but in order to better fit in here, I think this is necessary."
Rosenberg nodded. "I understand. And no, this isn't that odd of a request. How soon do you want to do this?"
"When we return from Galadreon. I don't want to give Drumhold and his people an excuse to keep me there any longer than necessary."
"Of course."
"Thank you."
( 4 )
The fire crackled and popped, the flames spreading their pleasing warmth to the small living room of the farmhouse. Messani was curled up in her favorite chair, wrapped in an afghan that her mother had knitted years ago. The night outside the window was crisp and cloudy. It was probably going to rain before morning, and the weather suited Messani's mood. She sighed as she reached for cup of tea on the chair's wide arm.
"Mother, I wish you would tell me what's bothering you." Aliira walked in carrying the pot of tea.
"You mean besides our financial woes?"
"Yes. You're the one who's always saying that we must trust in the Varashok." Aliira poured herself a cup of the herbal brew after refilling her mother's.
Messani smiled wanly and reached out to muss her daughter's hair. "But we are also taught to help ourselves, to know when the Gods are closing one door and opening another."
Aliira looked closer at her mother's expression, at the weariness and exhaustion in her eyes. "You've decided to sell the farm."
"Not exactly. The depository is going to take it and absolve us of our loan. We will be debt free, but we will have no place to live."
"Mother - "
"No, it's all right. I have accepted Ixsal's offer to move in with her. We will help her run her store, and she is willing to make me a business partner. What do you think?"
"I..." Aliira frowned and thought about it for a minute or so. "Do we have any other choice?"
"No," her mother replied sadly. "Look at it this way. You'll be closer to Shyato." Shyato was a boy who'd had his eye on Aliira for awhile. He and his parents had been to the farm a few weeks ago to have dinner with Messani and Aliira.
The girl smiled and stood. "That's a good point." She bent to kiss her mother's cheek. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
After Aliira left, Messani could hold back her grief no longer. It was all so damned unfair, and she buried her face into her afghan as she wept. As if the loss of Faero wasn't bad enough, she now had to give up his legacy, the land that he had nurtured and loved, and which Messani had loved as equally, if not more.
Her sadness eventually gave way to sleep, and she dreamed that she was standing in her field. It was barren. The sky was dark and starless, and the farmhouse wasn't in sight. Messani began walking, but the plain only seemed to expand the more she tried to reach its edge. Messani continued her trek, but found only emptiness and night.
( 5 )
"Everything looks good, Mrs. Rosenberg. Rate of development is on schedule, and all the usual markers are in place for the second trimester. Genetic screening has turned up nothing out of the ordinary. You're a textbook case of a standard human pregnancy. How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Jennifer mustered a smile that she hoped would convince the doctor. He was a humanoid, older, with a classic grandfatherly bedside manner that made her feel guilty for lying to him. She tried to recall the name of his species, something with an "on" in it.
Doctor Nals wasn't fooled by Jennifer's act. "Yeah, I've heard that tone from my patients before. What's the matter? You're not feeling any pain, are you?"
"No, no, nothing like that." She really didn't want to talk about it. "I'm fine, doctor. I promise. I'm going to go have lunch and then take a nap before I have to pick up Emalie." She stood and reached for her jacket.
"Mrs. Rosenberg." He waited until she looked at him. "Jennifer. Depression doesn't always come after the pregnancy. If you need to talk, I can refer you to –"
"Doctor, I'm not depressed. Thank you for your concern, though."
"All right. See you in two weeks. Be sure to confirm the appointment with the desk nurse on your way out."
Jennifer nodded and left Nals' office. The last thing she wanted – or needed – was to talk to a shrink. She just...well, she just needed some rest, that's all. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy motherhood. It had its trials, sure, but it also had its rewards, and she wouldn't trade it for anything in the universe. And yet...
Jennifer sighed as she waited for the desk nurse to confirm the appointment.
"You're all set, Mrs. Rosenberg." The young woman smiled in a most annoyingly perky manner that made Jennifer want to slug her.
"Thanks."
As she stepped into a PTL that was – thank the gods – empty, Jennifer leaned against the rear wall and closed her eyes. How could you make it this far in your life and feel like everything you've accomplished to this point is a waste? Or maybe 'waste' wasn't the right word. Homesick? Not necessarily. She'd never felt like this at any of Ben's other assignments. But then again, this was the one where he promised he would accept something Earthside. Could that really be it? Could she still be holding a grudge against him for that? You haven't created a life for yourself here, she thought ruefully. You could always go back to substitute teaching.
But only for a little while. In another three or four months she was going to have to go on strict bed rest. That was the way it had been when she was seven months along with Emalie. And even if she wouldn't need full time bed rest, she would at least be restricted to only two or three days a week of subbing, and the rest of the time she would go insane from boredom. There was only so many watchable programs on the HT, and she didn't have any hobbies, per se, except for reading. Jennifer Rosenberg wasn't one of those mothers who knitted, or grew her own vegetable garden, or was active in the PTA, or met for lunch on a regular basis with her close friends.
I don't have any close friends because I move around too much. Because of Ben. Back to her husband yet again. Perhaps she
was regretting having married a military officer after all. She knew going in what the responsibilities and sacrifices would be, but there was a difference between the knowing and the actual experience. And what now, Jen? You can't walk away from this. It's too late to play the what-if game. You promised Ben "For better or for worse". You have a family now. This is your life, whether you want it or not.
That was her mother speaking, and while she had a point, Jennifer would have appreciated a little more sympathy. No one had ever told her that motherhood would be more trial than triumph, that her marriage would often feel more like a life sentence than a happy union. And why couldn't she divorce her husband? Joint custody of the children would be difficult but manageable, and right now anything was better than this... suffocation. This helplessness. This frustration.
This eternal sadness.
It's not depression, Jennifer reiterated to herself. I'm not depressed.
Yes, dear, her mother replied. You keep telling yourself that, and everything will be just fine.
"Oh shut up," Jennifer muttered.
( 6 )
"That's all I've got for now. Any questions?"
Brantar Varis shut off the viewscreen behind her desk and faced the group of infantry and officers that would act as her crew during her covert mission into the Jha'Drok territories. The fifteen men and women consulted their individual compads where they'd been taking scrupulous notes, and they shook their heads.
"Seems pretty straightforward to me," Lieutenant Ritano replied. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. This mission could last for a standard month, possibly longer, so pack accordingly. Dismissed."
As the group filed out of Varis' office, Ritano fell in step beside Staff Sergeant Frakes. "Hi."
The marine glanced up from his compad. "Hello."
"Weren't you at the Athkim concert the other night?"
"Yeah."
"How'd you like it? I think they're a pretty good group."
Frakes shrugged, returning his attention to his notes. "I liked them."
Ritano wasn't about to give up the fight just yet. "Have you been to Garperi's?"
"No."
"Would you like to go tonight?"
Frakes stopped walking and looked up. "I'm sorry, lieutenant, but I don't date officers."
"What? You mean as a rule, or in general principle?"
"As a rule. But thanks for the offer. See you tomorrow."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ritano stepped into Frakes' path. The rest of their party had left them behind. "Just like that? You don't know me. You haven't given me a chance."
"I know. I was being tactful. The truth is, lieutenant, that your reputation precedes you. Let's just leave it at that."
"That's a little unfair, don't you think?"
"Now you're going to pretend to be insulted? You need to work on your acting skills, lieutenant."
"Call me Jeff."
"See you tomorrow, Jeff." Frakes stepped around Ritano and continued on his way towards the PTL.
Ritano smiled as he watched him go. "I like a challenge, staff sergeant," he murmured.
( 7 )
Arius Ronnd, chief minister of Chrisarii Central Intelligence, waited patiently as the operator behind him entered a command to activate the transfield. Ronnd's ship was orbiting the Kauramide homeworld, and Vi'Sar's fortress – located several kilometers outside the habitable zone in the Dar'Kar mountain range - was already under the dominion of intelligence field operatives. The surprise assault had been swift and successful, with only a dozen casualties among Vi'Sar's men and none among the chief minister's armed ranks. They now held Vi'Sar at gunpoint in his private office.
The large room was lit by ornamental wall lamps, and Ronnd's gaze was immediately drawn to a giant tapestry that hung on the wall behind Vi'Sar's desk. It was a scene depicting an ancient battle, one that Ronnd assumed to be from Kauramide's history, probably before the founding of the modern age. A battalion of soldiers in dark armor was charging into a valley to confront a wall of enemy whose armor was shades of gray. The ground was already littered with the dead and the dying, suggesting that this particular valley had already seen far too much carnage for one day. Above the mountains the setting sun had turned the sky crimson, as if it too had been gashed by a sword. The tapestry's edges were frayed and portions of the cloth were faded, almost threadbare.
"You admire it?" It wasn't a question. "I don't know how Nargha got a hold of it, but it's the only decoration of his that I kept. It...spoke to me." Nargha was the Sohnath drug lord who had built the fortress many years ago.
Ronnd turned to the owner of the voice, a man whom he had been hunting for almost a standard decade. Alikk Vi'Sar stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, in a position of military parade rest. He was surrounded by a squad of infantry, the muzzles of their disruptors pointed at his chest and back.
"It's very gruesome." Arius circled the desk and sat behind it. He glanced at his soldiers and said, "Wait outside." They obeyed.
As soon as the heavy doors grunted shut Ronnd motioned for Alikk to sit, and then activated an anti-surveillance device. The rebel general was wary, but he obliged his captor and pulled a chair from a nearby stone table. Everything in the room – including the large desk – was carved from either stone or a heavy, dark wood. For a few moments the two men looked at one another, each of them wondering exactly how this was all going to play out.
"You're probably curious why we're not having this conversation on homeworld," Ronnd began.
"Actually," Vi'Sar replied, "I was cursing myself for allowing you to find me so easily. I thought I had taken rigorous precautions, even after my discovery of Arrul's deception."
"That was your one flaw. You should have left this base and found another."
Alikk glanced around, his gaze settling on the tall, narrow windows through which a full moon could be seen. It had finally from behind a bank of heavy clouds. "I suppose I became attached to this place." He turned back to Ronnd. "It has a certain... gruesome charm to it, don't you agree?"
Arius was done with the small talk. "You and I are not very different, Alikk. We both want a return to the Old Glory of the empire, to the time when our people's name was feared among the foreign powers of this quadrant. The chancellor and the High Council want this as well." He paused to allow his words to sink in. Alikk gave no expression as he waited for Ronnd to continue. "I could take you into custody now, charge you with multiple counts of treason, put you through the process of a government tribunal where you will be found guilty, and then serve you your just punishment." Another pause. "However, the High Council has decided that there are more important priorities for the empire just now, priorities that are in line with your objectives." He leaned forward, making sure he had Vi'Sar's undivided attention. "If you agree to halt your acts of terrorism against the Federation and the Chrisarii government, we will erase all charges against you. In exchange for this, you will facilitate an underground alliance with the Jha'Drok. You'll probably want to start by making contact with the Shouk Drigald."
The chief minister reached into his coat pocket and extracted a compad. "This has the details of our plan and your pardon. There's also an immunity agreement that states that as long you cooperate with us your record remains clear. If at any point, however, you decide to disappear and violate your contract with us, the charges go back on the record and we will hunt you down. We captured you once, we can do it again. Take a few minutes to look this over." He handed the pad across the desk, and Vi'Sar took it.
Arius stood and walked the length of the room, stopping before the windows. The moon was covered once more by a veil of clouds, and the initial flurries of a snowstorm were gusting on the other side of the thick pane. Shadowy peaks could be seen in the distance, but little else was clear, and Ronnd silently admired Vi'Sar's choice of hideout. No one except those who wished to remain isolated would choose to live in such an inhospitable region. This fortress h
ad been carved from the side of the mountain and was equipped with stabilizers and forcefields that protected it from the occasional avalanche or particularly violent snowstorm. Ronnd wondered how Vi'Sar had successfully seized it from Nargha.
"You play a very risky game of battlefield, chief minister."
"Taking risks is the only way that one wins that kind of game."
Alikk rose and turned to face Ronnd. "One who understands the strategies of battlefield must know when he's putting too many pawns on the playing board. What happens if this little scheme is uncovered by someone in the government? Someone outside the High Council? Or someone from the news media? There hasn't been a lot of faith in Kroth and his High Quorum these last ten years."
"Right now, this is our only chance to restore that faith. You're right, this is a very risky and very bold move from the Quorum. And if it fails then it's every man for himself, and I have already begun making arrangements for that contingency. I have no doubt that you will as well."
Alikk walked over to the tapestry behind his desk and studied it for several moments. The sheer, brutal violence of the battle scene thrilled him in a way that bordered on sexual. He had often stood at this spot and wondered what it would have been like to have been alive during this particular era. Kauramide history before the founding of the modern age wasn't too different from Chrisarii's early historical periods. Warlords and self-appointed kings clashed with one another for the unity of the people, and there was no honorable rules of engagement. Any strategy – no matter how cunning and/or depraved – was acceptable in the name of victory.
Not at all like it was today. In the modern age of the Chrisarii Alliance, there was the code of honor that every true warrior must accept and live – or die - by. Compromise was now acceptable. Peace with one's enemy was acceptable. Even the name of the empire – Chrisarii Alliance – was an example of how far the Children of the Varashok had fallen from grace. Instead of being the only political power in the quadrant, the Chrisarii were part of an alliance. And if the High Council continued to have its way that alliance was very soon going to be part of the Interstellar Federation. Vi'Sar had been fighting that outcome with every last breath and resource for the last decade.